Forgetfulness
by generalsnickerdoodle
Summary: A broken woman, waiting to die, enters a tangled relationship with the notorious leader of The Saviors.
1. Found

**Author's Note:** _Oh, hello. Thanks for taking the time to click on my story, man. I originally posted this fic on my tumblr, but I decided to dust off my old fanfiction account and share it here, too. Clearly, I haven't gotten enough validation from this puppy. Haha. I intended to make this a three part fic that could be read either all together or as separate pieces. I'm currently in the process of writing part three. Leave a review if you like, stay classy, and of course, thanks for reading! (:_

* * *

It was over for her. This time it really was.

Sophie sat cross-legged on the dusty floor of some abandoned shop or another, numb to the groans of a lone walker scraping at the door outside. Cradled in her lap was the corpse of her recently deceased German Shepherd, his mangy fur matted with both old blood and new. Her pistol lay at her side, its clip entirely spent. Sophie should have seen this coming, to be perfectly honest. She and her furry companion had run into a nasty pack of feral dogs a couple of weeks ago. Bear had managed to run them off before they made a meal of her, but he paid for it with more than puncture wounds and a torn ear. So here Sophie found herself, alone, the last living thing she had left in the world dead at her own hand after contracting rabies. She was skinny, filthy, and all together half-dead, although none of that seemed to matter to her anymore. All Sophie could do was rock back and forth and stare blankly at her last and only friend. She'd closed his lifeless eyes, so that he almost seemed to be resting peacefully. _Sleep, heal, and wake up again._ She thought desperately. _I can't do this without you, Bear. Please._ She stroked his good ear soothingly, as if her touch would somehow bring him back to her.

Far away, the sickening crunch of rotted bone accompanied by deep male laughter echoed in her ears. Someone was here, she realized vaguely. Someone alive. Someone _human_. Sunlight streamed in as the door was carelessly flung open, crashing against the wall. She heard confident footsteps creaking across the wooden floor. They wandered leisurely through the space of the room, pausing every so often between aisles to examine a pair of cheap neon sunglasses or a display of keychains. The owner of those feet found her corner eventually. A pair of dirty leather boots entered the edge of her field of vision, stopping just short of where she was sitting. Sophie did not bother to look at him at first, hoping that if she pretended that he wasn't there, he would just leave her to die with her dog. Hell, maybe he'd even speed the process along and kill her himself.

"Well, _hello_ there, doll," Said a voice dripping with charisma, smooth as honey.

Sophie glanced up at him with a dull curiosity, sniffing. The man in front of her was tall, lanky, and ruggedly handsome, looking down at her with a warm grin pasted across his face. There was something off-putting about that smile, she thought immediately. There was a sense of danger to it, as if he were a predator that was entirely too pleased to happen upon an easy morsel of prey. What caught Sophie's attention most of all, however, was his grisly choice of weapon. Instead of carrying a gun or a knife, he had a baseball bat swaddled in barbed wire slung casually over one shoulder. There was a bit of ragged gray flesh hanging from the end of it, probably from that persistent walker. Sophie reckoned that it would probably take him a couple of swings with that thing to put her lights out for good. Perhaps she didn't want him to kill her, after all. The man crouched down and extended a gloved hand.

"I'm Negan."

She furrowed her brow at him, genuinely puzzled. Negan did not seem to notice her dead dog, her gaunt frame, or even the pungent smell of sweat that radiated from her body and hung in the humid Georgia air. He just held his hand out and waited. Feeling as though she had no other choice, Sophie took the handshake. His hand was much larger than hers, the leather of his glove cool against her skin. She felt as though she'd just made a deal with the devil, but he'd only just told her his name. Negan's grin widened, and he raised his eyebrows expectantly at her. He wanted her to respond, Sophie realized. She struggled to find the words.

"S-Sophie. My name's Sophie." She finally managed to stammer.

"Sophie," Negan repeated slowly, savoring her name. He licked his lips. "And what is a fine little number such as yourself doing in this shithole all alone?"

"I-" Sophie began, but the explanation died on her lips. Physically, she was hanging around in a miserable, forgotten souvenir shop with a dead animal. Now that she thought of it, she could not recall how long she'd been there. Had it been hours, or even days? Suddenly she noticed the smell of death coming off of the corpse in her lap. Truthfully, she was waiting to die, too heartbroken from the loss of her poor, sweet Bear. Sure, she'd lost people, too, just like everyone else. But Bear was special. He was the very last one, her last ally in a world that wanted to murder her at every turn. Bear was, for all intents and purposes, the straw that broke the camel's back. Tears stung unbidden at Sophie's eyes, blurring her vision.

"...I don't know." She whispered, too ashamed to tell him the truth.

"You got people? A group?" Negan asked. Sophie shook her head. He feigned thought for a moment.

"Tell you what," He said, one finger raised as if he'd just come up with a brilliant idea. "I've got myself a fucking great setup at home: food, shelter, safety. You come back with me. You work for me. In exchange, you get all of those comforts mentioned. Think of it as a give and take-type deal. Now how does that sound, doll?"

"Work?" Sophie inquired, wary.

"I've got a lot of fuckin' people to take care of," Negan explained, leaning in closer. She caught the clean scent of soap underneath his natural masculine musk. _Where can anyone take a proper bath these days?_ Sophie wondered. "Taking care of a lot of fuckin' people requires a certain amount of work. So you do what you're good at. Provide a little, and we _all_ benefit. What are _you_ good at, sweetheart?"

"I used to be a nurse." She said, remembering her career from what now felt like another lifetime. The memory of a bustling emergency room filled her mind, so much so that she could almost taste the bad coffee from the break room again.

"Hard to come by those these days," He replied, standing. He swung the bat from his shoulder to point its bloodied end at her. The scrap of walker flesh still dangled absurdly from one of its cruel barbs. "I could really use someone like you. You seem like a nice girl. A real stand up gal, even."

Sophie's eyes darted nervously from the bat to Negan. He chuckled, although she couldn't figure out what on earth was so funny. That predatory grin had never left his face, perfectly white and framed by a salt-and-pepper beard. His tawny eyes swam with amusement and overwhelming confidence, his gaze seeming to pierce right through her. Sophie felt as though he were playing some sort of game with her, and she was the unwary participant. Negan studied her for a moment longer before abruptly turning on his heel to swagger towards the door, whistling. She watched his retreating back, dumbfounded. Where did he think he was going? He couldn't just offer her safety, shelter, and community and walk away like that! Negan stopped at the doorway to glance back at her.

"You fuckin' coming or not?"

Every instinct screamed at her not to, but Sophie rushed to her feet to follow him just the same.


	2. Forgetfulness

**Author's Note:** _Decided to stick around for part two, did you? I'm so glad you did! At this point I had decided that I was going to write this thing from the perspective of a broken character that straight up hated Negan. He's mentioned on the show that he's got a hard on for broken women, and I really wanted to explore what that dynamic would be like. Angsty garbage and smut lie ahead. Thanks for reading! (:_

* * *

Sophie shuffled down a long corridor after Dwight, hands thrust deep into the pockets of her navy blue scrubs. She'd requested them from the people in charge of the last supply run for practicality's sake; scrubs were comfortable and had a lot of places to keep supplies. Her fingers anxiously flexed around a soft pad of gauze tucked in her left pocket. It had been a couple of months since her arrival at what Negan bafflingly called "The Sanctuary," a dark, unfriendly fortress surrounded by chain link fencing and stinking, snarling walkers. He'd set her up assisting their resident doctor right away, but not before giving her a grandiose tour of the place and laying down his rules with her. Oh, and he _lived_ for that meticulously crafted, strict hierarchy of authority. He lived to _enforce_ it. In fact, Sophie imagined that the only thing Negan treasured more than his position of power was his God-awful bat, which she later learned was lovingly named Lucille. He carried her- _it_ -with him everywhere, speaking of it as if it were his bloodthirsy alter ego. If it wasn't in his hand, it was never far from reach.

As for the tight sense of community that Negan had promised, Sophie found that she'd never seen a group so divided. Negan had his fervent followers, to be sure. Those people came and went from the compound to collect supplies and generally acted as an extension of Negan himself. The Saviors that stayed behind, however, largely regarded their leader with a sullen, fearful contempt. They kept to themselves, doing whatever task assigned to them with heads bowed low. At first Sophie wondered why they didn't just leave if they were so unsatisfied, but she learned very quickly that things weren't so simple. Each and every one of the Saviors: the passionate supporters, the derisive workers, and even Sophie herself were permanently indebted to Negan. To leave the Sanctuary meant that one had to take supplies, to take supplies one had to steal, and to commit thievery, well... That was an offense punishable by any number of things, up to and including death.

"... Cut his hand, wants you to look at it," Dwight was saying. "Hey, are you listening to me?"

"Hmm? Yes, he cut his hand. I will look at it." Sophie repeated flatly.

She had no idea why Negan wanted her to examine his hand in his private quarters rather than coming to the infirmary, but she was in no position to argue. They stopped at a rather plain-looking door at the end of the corridor. As Dwight knocked, Sophie fiddled with the bandage shears she had stowed in another pocket, its cold stainless steel pressed against her palm. While Negan had gladly shown her the fruits of his labor, she had never seen his personal rooms before. She knew through hearsay that he had multiple women living with him in there. The thought of his 'wives' made her shudder, but she hoped that they were home, so to speak. The last thing Sophie wanted was to be alone with the man that had trapped her here with sweet words and tantilizing promises. _I could really use someone like you,_ he'd said, and use her he did. Negan would use her until she died, and even then he'd be likely to put her in his garden of the dead to ward off intruders.

The door was opening, and suddenly Sophie felt a hand at her back all but shove her inside. She shot a dirty look back at Dwight, who only mouthed 'good luck' at her with the ghost of pity written on his ruined face. The room she'd been pushed into was spacious and lavishly furnished. No, scratch that. As soon as Sophie caught sight of the intricate chandelier, she decided that it was absolutely gaudy. She was disheartened to see that Negan's wives were absent. The man himself lounged on a squashy leather couch, a bloody rag clutched in his fist.

" _There's_ my cute little nurse!" He exclaimed by way of greeting.

"Hello, Negan." Sophie replied with a bright smile, shifting easily into her professional persona. "I hear that you injured your hand?"

"I might have fucked it up," Negan admitted, the same wolfish grin he'd worn when he first found her tugging at his lips. "Just a little."

Sophie crossed the room to sit beside him on the couch, gingerly pulling his hand towards her. She peeled the rag away to reveal an angry red gash across his palm.

"What happened?"

"Nothing that you need to worry about, darlin'."

She didn't push him for a real answer, instead reaching into her pocket to retrieve a pair of latex gloves. _The last pair,_ she thought ruefully. She would have to remember to ask the supply people to scavenge another box on their next run. After pulling them on, Sophie leaned forwards to inspect the wound more closely. Fortunately, it was shallow enough to heal without sutures. She dug into her scrubs for a tube of antibiotic ointment and a cotton swab. Negan watched her intently all the while, although she tried hard not to meet his eyes.

"Tell me something about yourself," He piped up suddenly. Sophie froze, caught off-guard by the simple, innocent request. She had her suspicions that Negan toyed with people often, either for his own warped sense of amusement or some ulterior motive. The man could charm a tiger into giving up its stripes if he wanted. She searched his face, surprised and wary to find nothing but genuine interest there.

"...What?" Was all she managed at last.

"You fuckin' heard me. Where did you grow up? What kind of shit did you do for fun?"

She sputtered a couple of times, frustrated at her inability to find something, _anything_ to say.

"Jesus Christ, doll, _relax,_ " Negan snorted. "You act like I've just asked you to describe the first time you fucked a guy."

At the word 'relax,' Sophie realized that she was perched rigidly on the very edge of her seat, her back tense. It took a considerable amount of effort for her to sit back and refocus on the task at hand.

"I guess you could say I grew up around here," She answered casually as she brushed ointment into the wound. "I did a lot of reading before everything fell apart."

"Your family live around here, too?"

Sophie felt a vague guilt stir inside of her. Her sister had been claimed by walkers early on, but the memory of it was more a bad dream than a reality. She had tumbled so deeply into a rut of survival that until now, she had forgotten about her sister entirely.

"I don't want to talk about it." She said quietly. Negan paused, his gaze fixed carefully on her face. It made her feel awfully vulnerable, but she did her best not to show it.

"Aww, hell, I forgot. You were all alone with nothin' but an empty gun and a dead dog when we first met."

She stiffened at the mention of Bear. Negan must have noticed the grief in her face, for he gave a breathy chuckle of disbelief.

"Are you fuckin' serious? It was just a goddamn dog, doll."

"He was more than just a _goddamn dog_ to me." Sophie hissed through gritted teeth, her anger flaring.

" _There's_ some real fuckin' emotion! I was starting to think that there was a whole lotta nothin' underneath all those bullshit smiles and vague-ass answers. You _are_ human, after all." Negan said triumphantly.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She snapped.

"I've been asking the Doc about you, to see how you've been adjusting to your new job. I can't have any dead weight around here, you understand. He tells me that you do the work, but you're as lifeless as the halfers we string up outside. Well, I told him that had to be fuckin' bullshit."

"What does it matter? I'm doing your work."

"Don't nurses have to have a passion for this kind of shit to do a good job?" Negan shrugged.

Sophie didn't answer, having decided that this conversation was entirely too personal for her liking. She hadn't spoken with Negan much, but she had learned through observation more than enough about what kind of man he was: manipulative, powerful, and violent. She remembered an incident a couple of weeks ago; a young man got brave enough to take off from the compound after raiding the armory. The guns returned. Ryan didn't. Negan was sure to remind everyone of the rules that evening.

"What's the matter, doll? Cat got your tongue?" He teased.

"No. I'm finished." Sophie said curtly, tugging the bandage hard enough that he gave a small hiss of pain. "Your hand will be fine. Keep it clean and come to the infirmary to have the dressing changed once a day."

She tucked her remaining supplies back into her pocket and stood from the couch. Sophie expected him to come up with some crass remark, but Negan remained silent, staring at her with amusement dancing in his eyes. _Is everything just a game to him?_ Sophie wondered, irritated. She turned to leave, crossing the room in one, two, three, four long strides. When she reached for the doorknob, he spoke, his voice laced with warning.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going, princess? I haven't dismissed you yet."

His tone made her stop dead in her tracks, her hand still outstretched for her escape. A wave of panic rushed through her, paralyzing her like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. The moment passed all too slowly, and she dropped her arm, fixing a careful apologetic smile on her face before turning back to him.

"I'm sorry. Was there anything else you needed?" She said as sweetly as she dared.

"Really? You're gonna go the kiss-ass route?" Negan drawled. "How disappointing. I was half hoping you'd commit to the fucking sass and just strut right out that door."

Her expression fell instantly as Sophie stood there, unsure of what to do or say. He was playing games with her, she knew, but what he hoped to accomplish was totally lost on her.

"What do you want from me, Negan?" She asked tentatively, although she was sure his reply would be nothing more than another riddle.

Negan stood and stalked towards her, stopping so close that she had to crane her neck a little to look him in the face. He was much taller than she was, but it was more than his physical height that made Sophie feel so frighteningly small. She swallowed and took a step back towards the door in an attempt to create some distance between them, but Negan had no qualms about following her.

"All I want is for you to work for me, darlin'. Respect me. Although," Negan mused, his eyes darkening. "I wouldn't mind fucking your pretty brains out once or twice."

Sophie flushed at the vulgarity of his words and might have slapped him for it, but she neither moved nor spoke. She just watched him, body thrumming with anticipation over what he might do next. Absurdly, she thought about how little Lucille really had to do with his ability to intimidate people.

"What I want doesn't matter right now, though." He continued. "What I'm _really_ interested to know is what _you_ want."

The question threw her through a loop. What _did_ she want? A hundred answers darted through her mind. Sophie knew what she should say: that she wanted her old life back. That she wanted her sister, her job, her apartment, and even her old favorite mug with the chip in it. That she wanted all of the hardship and loss to disappear like a fog in the sunlight. But none of those things were possible.

"I just want to forget," She breathed, her heart hammering wild in her chest. "Everything. All of it."

After losing her faithful dog, Sophie had fallen into something of a state of emotional paralysis. Sometimes, she had the faintest tingles of feeling, almost like half-forgotten memories. Most days she felt nothing at all, positive or negative. She figured she ought to be afraid of that, but whatever fear she felt was only a whisper from a thousand miles away. Negan, however, was different. He had managed to slip effortlessly into her mind, noisily rousing emotion inside of her that she thought had died with Bear. Her stomach twisted as he pressed in closer to trap her against the door with one arm.

"Ohh, I can make you forget, doll." Negan crooned, his voice low.

She was crumbling underneath his gaze, hungry and predatory as ever. Sophie licked her lips, which had suddenly become very dry. He brought his other hand up to brush his thumb along her bottom lip, raising gooseflesh on her arms. He frightened and intimidated her, but he somehow knew just what to say to writhe beneath her skin. Sophie _hated_ him. It rose up in her fast and hard, equal parts terrifying and intoxicating. She didn't know if she'd _ever_ felt something so passionately violent before, and Sophie felt a sudden, hysterical urge to drown herself in it completely. _Anything_ was better than the numbness that dominated her consciousness day in and day out in this god-forsaken place. So she grasped him by the lapels of his jacket, dragging him aggressively downwards to crush her lips to his.

Negan took control of the kiss immediately, fingers winding into the fine curls at the nape of her neck. He tugged at the hair there, causing her to give a little gasp as a thrill of sensation raced down her spine. He took the opportunity to slide his tongue along hers, his movements confident and eager. Sophie slipped her hands into the warmth of his jacket, palms running up his lean chest. All the while her mind reeled with excitement and horror at her actions. She would have sooner smashed his cocky, handsome face in with Lucille, but instead she stood feverish and giddy as Negan's hands boldly roamed her body. Sophie had swooned under his ministrations so easily that it pissed her off; he'd had her dancing like a puppet for him ever since he'd found her in that stupid fucking shop. She broke the kiss and shoved him backwards hard. Negan looked taken aback for a split second before he regained his composure, that overconfident smirk making its appearance.

"Fuck you," Sophie spat, red-faced and breathless. He threw his head back and laughed.

" _'Fuck me,'_ sweetheart? You are welcome to it!"

Her fury exploded, possessing her with the reckless bravery to try and deliver an open-handed slap across his face. Negan saw it coming and caught her wrist, pinning it firmly beside her head. He leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"Careful now, doll," He cautioned, his breath hot against her skin. "This is the kind of defiance that _really_ gets my dick hard."

He moved from her ear to place slow, open-mouthed kisses in the crook of her neck, the scruff of his beard scratching at her skin. The sensation made her shiver, her anger rapidly fizzling out as Negan dropped her wrist to caress the gentle curve of her side. He made to kiss her again, but paused just short of contact, waiting. Sophie's muddled mind came to the realization that he wanted her to make the first move, to give her consent. A part of her still wanted to twist the doorknob behind her and flee from the room, possibly even the compound itself, consequences be damned. _I'm making a terrible mistake here,_ Sophie thought as she closed the distance between them, fingers tracing his jawline. He tasted faintly of whiskey, smooth and familiar.

She wasn't sure how she ended up beneath him on the couch, and at this point she didn't care. Every touch, every kiss became hotter and more desperate than the last. Negan shrugged hastily out of his jacket and helped her tug her top over her head, all of her medical supplies falling from the pockets to clatter onto the floor.

"Aww, shi-" Sophie began, her dismay melting into a sigh as he traced her newly exposed collarbone with his tongue.

He took his agonizingly sweet time exploring every inch of her newly bared skin, kissing and licking a path down her navel to the hem of her scrub pants. She thought that he would stop there, but he pulled the hem down just enough to bare her hipbones to his inquisitive lips. Negan spent a long time navigating this part of her body, building up a maddening ache between her thighs as she waited impatiently for him to go a little bit further. When he didn't, she couldn't help but moan in frustration before he claimed her mouth again like a man starving. Inflamed with lust, Sophie eagerly did some exploring of her own, slipping her hands underneath his t-shirt to touch the lean, tightly corded muscle beneath it. Her fingers brushed over his belt buckle next, traveling downwards to cup his arousal through his jeans. Negan groaned at the contact and rutted his hips into her hand. Emboldened by his reaction, she made to tug at his belt, but he stopped her.

"My my, we _are_ getting frisky," He observed with a self-satisfied smirk.

Negan pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Sophie's bra joined it soon after, her nipples hardening in the slight chill of the room. He began making his way back downwards, stopping to swirl his tongue around each of her nipples. She arched into him, panting, the ache between her thighs escalating further into a fervent, needy throbbing. When he reached her hemline, he didn't tease her a second time, instead making short work of her remaining scraps of modesty. Negan nipped at the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, making his way slowly inwards to her most secret of places. Sophie bucked and cried out as his flicked his tongue over the sensitive bundle of flesh at the head of her sex. Pleasure hummed throughout her core, intensifying with every masterful stroke of his tongue until she writhed piteously beneath him.

Sophie could feel herself fast approaching climax, her breaths coming in short, ragged pants. She was standing at the edge of that precipice, ready to dive off of it, when Negan suddenly abandoned her. Before she could ask him what the fuck _that_ was for, he had returned to settle in between her legs, rubbing the head of his cock against her slick folds. He was teasing her, driving her into a frenzy.

"I can't take it anymore!"

"Can't take what, doll?" Negan taunted her, leaning down to graze her earlobe with his teeth.

"Negan, _please_..." Sophie begged desperately.

" _'Please'_ what?" He asked, his voice rough with lust. "You want this?"

To illustrate the meaning of 'this,' he positioned himself at her entrance, pushing ever so slowly into her.

" _Yes,_ " She moaned impatiently.

He rewarded her by filling her completely, grinding his hips against hers in a slow, delicious rhythm. _Finally_. Sophie rocked with him, flexing herself around his cock as he thrust himself deep inside of her. Negan gave a sharp, guttural groan punctuated by a string of pleasured curses. He picked up the pace, biting and sucking at the tender flesh of her throat hard enough to bruise. Sophie clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, her body racked with pleasure as her confused hatred bubbled up forcefully in her mind. Negan had invaded her completely, body and soul, and she had _let_ the bastard do it. He treated it as if it were a game, something to pass the time. Nothing made her angrier... And nothing excited her more. Sophie found herself racing towards climax again, her moans sounding almost pathetic to her own ears.

She came hard, her body spasming around him as his name fell from her lips over and over like a desperate prayer. Negan thrust into her, his pace almost frantic, before she felt the hot spurt of his release inside of her. He sagged on top of her, cursing, his face buried in the crook of her neck. As Sophie came down from her orgasm, the reality of what she'd just done crashed into her like a truck. She had just _fucked_ Negan... Or rather, _he_ had fucked _her_. And _why_? Because he'd made her a little angry? Because he'd made her _feel_ something? Sophie wanted nothing more than to disappear at that moment, or perhaps to turn back time. Negan sat up and ran a hand through his hair.

" _Fucking hell,_ doll, I should have fucked you sooner," He said with a breathless chuckle.

Sophie hardly heard him, having gotten up to begin hastily redressing herself. She couldn't get out of this room fast enough, as far as she was concerned. After pulling her scrubs back on, she knelt to gather up her fallen supplies and shove them back into her pocket. Negan put a hand on her shoulder.

"Marry me." He said, his tone suddenly serious.

All of her thoughts scattered to the wind as she gaped at him, the tube of ointment slipping from her fingers in shock. It had to be another game, some other sick joke he wanted to play on her. That was the kind of man Negan was. It had be, and yet any trace of amusement was gone from his eyes, replaced by something uncharacteristically intimate. Panicked, she stood and made a beeline for her escape.

"Sophie."

He hadn't said her name since they'd met; it sounded almost foreign coming from him. Negan tossed her tube of ointment to her.

"Think about it, alright?"

Sophie fled without another word.


End file.
